Max Collins - Before the Dawn

Seth could not cover his break-in, but he could cover the reason for it, and turn this failure into a financial success, anyway.

He vaulted over the slumbering clown-nosed guard, leaving his lunchroom exit behind; he sprinted back to the stairwell and returned to the executive floor, and that hallway where he’d seen the paintings... but coming through the fire exit door, on the run, he collided with the last guard.

The two of them crashed to the floor in a mutually surprised mound of writhing flesh, each yelling angrily as they wrestled for position. Seth was stronger, of course, but the guard was wiry and young and kept his head.

The guard even managed to avoid most of Seth’s blows, and surprised Seth with an elbow to his groin, which sent nausea-tinged agony through his belly, and another elbow jammed into Seth’s left eye, which dazed the X5 and sent the hallway spinning.

Reaching for his Tazer, the guard struggled to his feet, and — as he freed the weapon from his belt — Seth swept his feet out from under him, and the guard landed on his ass with a hard thunk, Tazer flying.

Seth, on his feet now, nimbly leapt out of reach when the dazed guard tried to repeat the sweeping maneuver on him.

Looking down at the fallen guard with respect, Seth asked, “Nice work — we finished here?”

The guard looked up, his eyes blinking rapidly as he tried to clear his head and understand what was happening.

“You got cuffs?” Seth asked, conversationally. “I’ll cuff you and then I’m outa here.”

The guard shook his head, whether in protest or to clear the cobwebs, Seth couldn’t tell. Then the guard dived at Seth, and the X5 threw a hard right down, catching the man’s chin, breaking his jawbone, dropping the guy into an unconscious heap.

“That’s one way to get cuffed,” Seth muttered to himself.

Now that he had the luxury of time, Seth studied the paintings; there had been no Moody in his life, and Manticore was rather light on arts training... so this X5 took down half a dozen that pleased his eye, using his switchblade to cut the canvases from their heavy frames. He rolled them up together like a carpet and took the elevator downstairs.

In the lunchroom, the guards were all still out — one or two of them might be in comas, or even dead — but Seth didn’t care one way or the other. Feeling exhilarated — this had been fun! — the boy slipped out his window into the night.

Logan Cale took the computer disc from Seth, and loaded it into his computer, as the X5 filled in his benefactor on the night’s adventures.

“You did what?” Logan asked.

Seth grinned, proud of himself; this was the happiest Logan had ever seen the boy.

“I made it look like a robbery,” the X5 said. “With any luck, Sterling won’t even notice the breach in his computer security.”

That was smart, Logan knew; and the last time he’d dispatched Seth, homicide had happened... this was merely grand larceny, with assault and battery as a chaser. Maybe the team could work their way down to jaywalking.

Shaking his head, Logan asked, “What did you take?”

“Six paintings.”

“Where are they, Seth?”

“Trunk of my wheels... Know a good fence?”

Logan stared at Seth like the boy had gardenias growing out of his ears. “You’re kidding, right? These paintings could be evidence in a case against Sterling, might even implicate the Russian.”

Seth shrugged, what the hell. “There’s plenty more where these came from. Anyway, I thought they might bring in a little pocket change.”

Pocket change, Logan thought. More like millions...

“Get them,” Logan said.

“Hey, they’re mine! I did your damn job, for free — this is, whaddya callit, a perk!”

“Seth,” Logan said, “this is more important than money.”

“Easy for you to say, Donald Trump!”

“Sterling may be our link to Manticore.”

Seth let out a long, slow breath. “Okay... I’ll let you eyeball ’em... but that’s it.”

While the boy was gone, Logan struggled to open the disc. This was going to take time, and a lot of concentration, which wouldn’t be possible with the X5 underfoot. He set it aside; he’d deal with it later.

Seth returned with the rolled-up paintings, spread them, smoothed them out, on the sofa and on the nearby floor.

“Eyes Only” couldn’t believe his eyes.

He’d known Sterling had a mammoth collection, but to think these had been on display at corporate headquarters... N. C. Wyeth, Charles Russell, Norman Rockwell, Frederic Remington, Jackson Pollock, and John Singer Sargent... he was staggered, stunned.

“Leave these,” Logan said, “and I’ll have an art expert go over them.”

Seth’s head reared back. “You’re kidding, right? I mean, you’re not really thinking I’m going to leave these with you, are you?”

“You need them authenticated, Seth.”

“Do I look that stupid?”

“Is that a trick question? It’ll help you sell them, if you know what they’re worth.”

Seth thought about that for a moment, but then shook his head. “You get the art expert — call my pager... and I’ll bring the paintings back.”

“All right,” Logan sighed, patting the air with his hands. “All right.”

Rolling up the paintings like dorm room posters, Seth said, “Do it by tomorrow night, or I’ll take my own chances with a fence.”

“What if I can’t line somebody up by then?”

“Oh I got faith in you, Logan,” Seth said, the rolled-up masterpieces under one arm. The James Dean face grinned in all its awful boyishness. “Just like you got faith in me, right?”

Seth showed himself out.

Turning to Kendra and her closet for help, Max dolled herself up in one of those skimpy sexy frocks that she had so scrupulously avoided until now. At least it wasn’t frilly or trashy — the simple black strapless minidress, set off by a rhinestone belt, displayed much of her sleekly muscular legs, plentiful cleavage, and just about all of her unblemished, bronze shoulders. Sitting on the bench in front of her roommate’s makeup mirror, Max put on some black you-know-what-me pumps that rivaled any torture Manticore had come up with.

“You look good, girl,” Kendra said with an appreciative, almost envious grin. “Foxy and fine.”

Original Cindy, who had come over to help with the makeover, widened those big beautiful brown eyes and, with a head shake, said, “You look any better, Boo, Original Cindy’d set out to recruit you for her team.”

That took the edge off, making Max laugh, and the other young women joined in, in a round of giggles.

Then, studying her reflection, Max rose and turned in a slow circle. “Damn, you two are really good at this — you oughta do makeovers on the tube... I can’t find the butt-kicking tomboy no matter how hard I look.”

“Oh, she’s in there,” Original Cindy said. “She’ll come out, anybody screw around witchoo.”

“But these shoes...” Max winced, working to maintain her balance. “They’re tighter than Normal’s ass.”

O. C. laughed at that, and Kendra shrugged. “Those are the best I can do — not my fault, my feet are just a little smaller than yours... Cin, you got anything in your collection?”

“Hell,” Original Cindy said, “my dogs are bigger than either of you... But don’t you the get the wrong idea: Original Cindy is still damn delicate!”